


All That’s Left is Your Bones

by babybirdblues



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: I mean major character death, M/M, Manipulation, Rahn dared me, and lots of triggers, and when I say major character death, dubcon/noncon hints, really - Freeform, so i did, this is soul destroying, to do my worst, triggers for mentions of suicide, uh, uwu, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been more common lately.  In fact, it’s been so common that Dick only tenses his shoulders and forces on a smile.  There’s nothing he can do at the moment.  Bruce isn’t going to stop destroying things because Dick wants him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That’s Left is Your Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rahn (Rahndom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahndom/gifts).



> Written for Rahn's birthday Big Bang on tumblr. I tried a new format. It was fun.

It is almost pathetic how easily the Detective dies.

At the same time it is gratifying.  Ra’s is a god among humans and no man will stand in the way of what he desires - not even the Detective.  In fact, the Detective is no longer required, for there is another who would bear the name.  Another who has earned far more favour from Ra’s than Bruce Wayne ever did.

Timothy.

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, son to Janet and Jack Drake, adopted son - now emancipated son - to Bruce Wayne.

Ra’s thoughts constantly focus on how Timothy escaped his notice for so long.  It was only after Bruce’s untimely - or for Ra’s, timely - passage through time that Ra’s fully took note of the young man.  How he was always so many steps ahead.  How he was willing to do anything to protect his family.  How Bruce never appreciated the stunning prize he unwittingly acquired.

Of course, it took Timothy’s sheer nerve - _eyes glinting as he fights blow to blow with Ra’s, he’s going to die but he’s going to die head held high_ \- for Ra’s to decide Timothy would be his.  He took the time after Bruce returned to watch, to wait, going over every move Timothy made in the past.  He learned not to underestimate Timothy in those months.

Bruce, on the other hand, Ra’s overestimated.  He became soft, predictable.  He is no longer the Detective that Ra’s once wished to sire an heir for him - not that Damian was a proper heir.  True, the boy has his uses.  However, they revolve more around Richard and on some level Talia.  When Ra’s’ plans were initiated he was more useful as an example to convince Richard - as well as keeping his mother in line.

Laughing softly Ra’s staples his fingers and watches the screen.  Timothy is searching for any hint as to why Bruce is dead.  He will not find an answer because there is none to be found.  This was the endgame of their little match.

———

The shatter doesn’t catch them by surprise.

It’s been more common lately.  In fact, it’s been so common that Dick only tenses his shoulders and forces on a smile.  There’s nothing he can do at the moment.  Bruce isn’t going to stop destroying things because Dick wants him to.  What hurts, stabbing and painful to his very core, is Damian’s look of confusion (that covers up fear - it’s gotten to the point Damian’s scared how bad is that?).  Except, well, the entire thing hurts.

Bruce won’t listen to him.

Any of them.

They’ve all tried.

Alfred’s failure to get Bruce to open up about whatever was bothering him probably was the worst.  Alfred never failed at that.  Bruce was his _son_ \- in all the ways it mattered at least.

Another shatter echoes down from Bruce’s study.  Damian curls into himself, muscles constricting quickly before relaxing.  Tim, who just walked into the kitchen, grits his teeth before letting his breath whistle out between his teeth.  Slowly he makes his way over to beside the younger boy.

"Damian, we’re going to the Tower today.  Pack for a week-long training mission.  It’s Bat approved and will be good for you."

It’s probably telling how Damian doesn’t argue.  Just nods tensely as he excuses himself from breakfast.

"It’s been a month."

Dick sighs.  He knows that.  Tim’s not the only one keeping track of how long Bruce has been acting off.  Everyone’s been doing it.  He’s pretty sure Jason has a calendar in his apartment with _'Bruce is still fucked up'_ scrawled across the days.

(He pretends he doesn’t see the worried look Tim sends him as he leaves with Damian.)

——-

Dick told him that Tim did some things that weren’t _proper_ when he was gone.  (Except those weren’t the words Dick used when he carried on about how Tim was the one who saved the day.)

Bruce can even sort of understand that.  He does remember his years without his boys.  He remembers the times he went a bit farther than he wanted, the times he let his anger take control.

(He pretends not to.)

It’s when he finds out the dealings Tim made with Ra’s al Ghul that Bruce knows that something is going to go terribly wrong.  Something always goes terribly wrong when Ra’s is involved.

He feels no surprise when he finds a note on his desk one morning.  Just an empty blankness in his mind.

_'Our Match begins, Detective.  It would be a shame if another Hero of Gotham died because of you.'_

Ra’s is threatening them all.  Everyone under Bruce’s protection and care (everyone Bruce loves).  It’s not just Robin who’s going to be a casualty in this game if he doesn’t play by the rules.

The cynical, hateful part of him wonders what Bruce did to make Ra’s decide it was time to get rid of him.  Wasn’t he everything Ra’s wanted to create the perfect heir?  It’s why Damian was born.  Except Damian isn’t Ra’s’ perfect heir.  He’s nowhere near being perfect enough for the undying man.

(Bruce loves Damian, he does.)

The pit that makes its place in the bottom of his stomach is consuming.  He knows that he’s not doing enough - can’t do enough, not when he has to figure out the rules on a fly while Ra’s is making them as he goes.

Somehow.

Somehow Tim’s in the middle of it.

Ra’s never specified but Bruce knows its Tim.  It was Tim who made the dealings with Ra’s.  So, it had to have been Tim who caught Ra’s’ attention.

Bruce fears for him.

Fears for him more than he fears for the rest of his children.  The rest have a chance because Ra’s focus isn’t on them.  But Tim.  Tim doesn’t.

(But then again, does Bruce?)

———

Dick can’t even express how _happy_ he is that Bruce is alive.  That Tim was _right_.  All he can do is wrap his arms around Tim’s shoulders as they watch Bruce breathe in his sleep in the medroom of the Cave.  Bruce’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, in and out, up and down.  Dick’s pretty sure Tim’s counting - it’s the way his pointer finger taps against Dick’s forearm in a steady beat; one that matches Bruce’s inhale.  But that’s okay because if Dick’s brain wasn’t firing away a mile minute he’d be counting the breaths too.

A banging on the stairs grows louder to echo around the Cave, sharp clicks that signify the entrance of Jason.  Tim’s shoulders constrict in his version of a flinch.  Dick mutters something nonsensical and eases himself away from his younger brother.  Jason’s presence is only welcome if he’s not here to antagonise with his harsh words and even harder looks.

"So Dickie, I heard you found the big man?"

There’s something fragile on Jason’s face.  Something that makes the words choke in Dick’s throat, trapt beneath the lump that forms just below his Adam’s apple.

"Tim did."

Jason’s eyes flicker, a shadow moving across them.  ”Babybird huh?  Looks like we know who the best son is.”

The breath leaves Dick’s chest in a rush.  ”No.   _No Jay_.  Tim was just too stubborn to - we aren’t worse sons because of this.  Bruce loves us all.”

(Dick knows he does.)

Though, his love for Jason might actually be a bit more.  Tim came into Bruce’s life to save it.  Save it from the downward spiral it took after Bruce lost his second son.

"Just.  Stay here with Tim and Bruce okay?  I’m gonna go check on Alfie and little D."

He’s taking the stairs two by two before Jason even answers.  The Cave is closing in on him, walls folding in too tight, pressing in from all sides.  He needs to get out.

The cold air hits his skin causing goosebumps to rise.  It’s odd.  He was heading up to his room but he’s staring at Bruce’s grave - the one he doesn’t need.  It’s empty of course.  Because Bruce is breathing in the Cave.  Jason and Tim are there with him - Tim counting his breathes and Jason, doing whatever it is Jason does.

(Probably something illegal.)

Dick’s back twitches, foot facing outwards as he decides if he should return or if he should stay out here some more.  He probably has time.  A few minutes wouldn’t hurt would it?

"Are you sure he will be the same Detective you once knew Richard?" The voice is silky smooth, condescending as it wraps its way out of the shadows.  "Travelling through time changes a man.  I am not so certain that the Detective can handle it at this point in his life."

A stuttered breath escapes Dick.  The monster in the shadow put his doubts into words.  His body shakes, lungs constrict, and throat burns with the fear that Bruce won’t be Bruce anymore when he wakes.  It’s then that Dick’s eyes catch on rich green fabric and grey streaked hair.

_Ra’s al Ghul._

He doesn’t know why Ra’s is here.  Doesn’t care at the moment.  Because he’s not going to be scared into not believing in Bruce.  Dick has lost belief in Bruce before and those times have always ended badly.  He can’t do it again - his body betrays him by trembling; Dick clenches his fists as he stares directly at Ra’s.

"Bruce will still be Bruce.  It’ll take more than that to destroy him."

Ra’s tilts his head in the manor’s direction.  His hands are held out, palms facing up in a relaxed statement.  ”You might wish to return.  Ensure your brothers are safe.”

(He doesn’t notice the dark twist of Ra’s lips.)

———

The morning is cold and crisp.  Gotham is moving into winter, a time that generally means family.  Perhaps that is why Damian was the one to find him.  It was a lesson they had been teaching him: you take care of your family.  Everyone had been worried about Bruce, but Damian more so than others.  He’d never seen his father this way.  Never seen Bruce with such a dark look in his eyes, on so little sleep, not eating - there are too many things to list.

It’s probably the reason he ventured into his father’s study at seven in the morning when he didn’t come down for breakfast.  Alfred carefully settled breakfast on a plate for him when he asked, eyes tight.  Damian makes sure not to drop it, even as he opens the door - because his father won’t.

(It hurts that Father won’t open the door for him.)

Damian never expected to see blood splatter.

—

Cass is the one to hear the shattering of plates.  She had been heading to her room after helping Alfred wash the dishes.  Knowing Damian was upstairs and the type of moods Bruce had been in of late, her legs carried her down the hallway at a sprint.  With each movement of her muscles she was that much closer to making sure the youngest of the household was all right.

(This was something she was good at.)

Bruce’s study door is open, pieces of plates and food littering the carpet around it like a Van Gogh masterpiece.  Cass feels the smaller pieces of porcelain and glass dig into her feet when she can’t see them to avoid them.  But that isn’t her number one priority. Damian and Bruce are.

The sight that greets Cass though, is horrifying.

Bruce sits sprawled in his chair, a glorified king on a throne of blood.  His right hand is still curled around the hilt of the knife pressed deep into his larynx.  Its serrated edges hooked into the skin, splaying it open even with all the blood that had spilled down his front during the night.  His legs are spread shoulder width apart, feet firmly on the carpeted floor.  His left arm is relaxed and fallen over the armrest - even his head is relaxed, tilted to the side and slightly down.

The smile on Bruce face is loving - something his eyes will never be again.

A muffled noise draws Cass’ attention from the gruesome scene before her eyes.  Damian is on the floor in front of her - he must have collapsed there, shaky legs giving out as he stared uncomprehendingly at Bruce.

Cass wishes she could erase the sight from her own eyes.  Even if, even if this isn’t her Bruce - she can’t even begin to imagine what Damian is feeling.

Though, at least he’s all right in a sense - Bruce didn’t physically hurt him again.

(He’d never truly be all right again.)

(She probably won’t either.)

———

Ra’s hands are slick on his hips. 

But each time they begin to slip away, his grip tightens.  Tim can’t imagine how many bruises he has.  They litter his torso and legs.  Not his arms so much - except at his wrist - those are harder to hide.  Ra’s isn’t willing to share this with anyone.

He isn’t willing to share Tim.

Tim’s thoughts must show on his face.  Ra’s bites down hard where his hip turns to soft thigh skin, nearly breaking skin.  He doesn’t sooth the bite with his tongue, like he normally does.  No, this is bite was a punishment: for thinking of someone else when he should only be thinking of Ra’s.

(He’d rather think of nothing.)

"Timothy.  I do not wish to punish you," Ra’s voice washes over him.  It’s somehow darker than the room - probably the intent behind it.  "But, I will make-"

"There’s no need."

At least Ra’s wasn’t in the mood to chain him up tonight.  The pillows make for an excellent barrier - and, if the stinging in his cheek is anything to go by, he’ll have to cover that bruise up.  He’s been running out of passable excuses.  Especially since none of the family is patrolling much since Bruce died.

The sharp snap of Ra’s hips makes Tim grunt in pain.  The only thing he can do now is ride it out.  Tonight’s about punishment.  It’s his own fault, he supposes.  He stopped trying to keep his mouth shut when it was just the two of them.  If this was how the game was going to be played, Ra’s was going to accept some of his rules too.

Tomorrow will be better. 

(It has to be.)

———

It’s been two months since Bruce returned and about a month and a half since he started acting odd.  Just this morning he’d all but threatened to kick Damian out of the manor.  Tim doesn’t know what to do.  Before it was easy.  He knew what was wrong - he figured it out - but this, this he doesn’t know.  There’s no reason for Bruce to be acting this way.  Nothing that Tim can find: no poison by Ivy, no fear gas by Scarecrow, nothing.

He knows he has to do something, step in, talk to him, anything.

They can’t keep going on like this.

Damian is terrified.  Cass will barely speak.  Jason’s killing more drug dealers than he’s letting live and Tim, well, Tim’s hiding behind his own work.  At least Babs said he was.  She’s probably right.  She’s normally right.  So, he’ll stop.  Tim’ll deal with this because he didn’t work so hard to bring Bruce back to lose him like this.

—

Tim’s just leaving the office when he gets the call.

(Bruce didn’t show up for work today.  Like yesterday.)

His heart thumps painfully: each beat an aching stab against his ribcage.  Leaning against the wall in the front lobby of Wayne Enterprises Tim has to wave off a concerned secretary.

“Tim?  Timmy breathe.  Steph - Steph she’s in surgery and they say she’s stable.  It was an accident.  Bruce -”

Dick’s voice cuts off as Tim drops his phone.  It skitters somewhere across the floor.  It’s all right he doesn’t need that phone at the moment.  It’s his civilian one.

The secretary is back.  This time she’s not letting Tim wave her off.  He’s a bit grateful, especially since he’s fairly certain he didn’t consciously make the decision to sit on the floor.

“Mister Drake-Wayne?”

“I need to get to the hospital.”

Her eyes widen, hand flying to her mouth before Tim realises his mistake.

“Not for me.  My fri- I just need to get there.  Make sure to keep the information private.  Especially if a Miss Vale comes around.

Lucius and Bruce hired excellent secretaries.  Tim has to compliment them on that.  Because she only gives him one more concerned look, barely batting an eyelash at the remark about Vicki Vale, before calling for a car.  She insists on waiting with Tim though.  He doesn’t bother arguing.  It’s the way she has her brow set, the way her lips turn down at the corners.

She sort of reminds him of Steph.

Belatedly - after he’s well on his way to the hospital - he realises he doesn’t know her name.  He’ll fix that tomorrow.

Tomorrow he’ll ask her her name and arrange for a pay raise.

—

Damian is the one waiting for him at the front desk.  Tim didn’t know if Steph would be out of surgery by now and he still didn’t have his phone.  Their secretary made sure he had everything else.  He supposes she didn’t know where his phone went either.

“Dra- Timothy.”

A sharp laugh tears out of Tim’s throat.  He must look like hell if Damian is calling him Timothy.  He’s never stopped being Drake, not even when Bruce’s newfound behaviour was focused on Damian himself.  It makes him want to cry.  He can feel the tears hot behind his eyes.  But he won’t.  Not in front of Damian - who needs them all to be strong - and not while Steph is lying in an operating room possibly dying.  If she dies.  If she dies he’ll cry then.

(He should have done something sooner.)

“Damian.  Is she - Steph, is she out of surgery yet?”

He looks nervous, flighty.  His eyes keep flicking to the doors and then to Tim and back.  Tim feels a painful longing at the fact that Damian finally looks like a child.  Too bad it’s in such a horrible situation.

“She just got out,” the brat’s eyes lower to his feet then.  “Richard was talking to the doctor.”

The breath Tim didn’t know he was holding is released, leaving him lightheaded.  As Damian leads the way to Steph’s room Tim feels like he could be giddy - if he wasn’t so scared for the prognosis.

Steph’s room feels too cold.

It’s bare.  There are too few signs of life - the steady beep of the hospital machines don’t count.  They’re a grim reminder that they could have lost Steph.  Tim nearly misses Cass, would have if she wasn’t nearly on top of the bed.  If there weren’t so many tubes and wires attached to Steph, Tim thinks she would be curled up next to her, to give her warmth.

Jason’s sitting beside the door, with his head bowed over his knees, shoulders slumped and spine curved.  “He was aiming for _you_ Dick.”

“I know,” Dick’s pale.  His voice shakes as he stares down at Steph in the hospital bed.  She looks small and frail swathed in the stark sheets.  Tim wishes he had of been there.  He might have been able to talk Bruce down.

“Obviously the Detective is not himself.”

A knife embeds in the doorframe just as the sound of flesh hitting flesh resounds through the room.  Ra’s looks distinctly unimpressed.  He even tsks at Jason before his eyes flick to Tim’s.

“Ra’s,” Tim’s voice is rough.  He swallows a few times around the lump in his throat.  He even turns his back on the undying man.  There’s no reason for Ra’s to be here.  “To what do we owe a visit?”

The smile is so quick Tim thinks he imagined it but when Ra’s speaks he’s pleased.  “I am concerned Timothy.  If the Detective can do this to Miss Brown what is to stop him from turning against my grandson?”

Damian looks torn between curling into himself and mouthing off.  His eyes shine either way - Tim is uncertain whether it is from tears or anger.  Before he can mention the fact that Ra’s has tried to kill his grandson himself he speaks again.

“Or, what is stopping the Detective from turning against the rest of you?  Did he not go to hit you Richard while you were patrolling last week?”

The change of topic throws them all off guard.  Enough so Jason stumbles in his attempt to get off the chair.  It’s kind of a small chair for someone Jason’s size in the first place.  Add to that a quick vertical movement - doesn’t work so well.  

Cass furrows her eyebrows at Dick but he avoids her eyes.  He avoids Tim’s eyes too.

“It was one of my warehouses you were investigating.  I was informed you were there, and reviewing the tapes.  Well, I would be concerned.  It was my concern that the time travel would leave the Detective - not himself.”

Tim can hear many words in Ra’s apparent pause.  The first one being _unhinged_.  But Bruce isn’t - he’s not.  Steph’s heart monitor beeps in the quiet of the room.  There’s no denying Bruce did this.  They need the why though before they can just start throwing statements and accusations around.

“I think you need to leave now Ra’s.  Thank you for your concern.”

The weight of his eyes stay on Tim’s back for a long time after Ra’s is gone.

(Tim pretends to ignore the look Dick and Cass exchange.)

———

“Well Detective, I do believe the game is over.”

Bruce’s muscles stiffen as the voice echoes around his office.  He plants his feet, ready to bound out of his chair as soon as he catches another sign of Ra’s.  But Ra’s is a step ahead of him.  Has been this entire time.  When the hand descends upon his shoulder and the knife presses into his throat it is all Bruce can do not to laugh.  He knows it will be a horrible thing.

He does not make Ra’s repeat his sentence.  He tilts his head back and thinks: about Steph’s shock as she fell out the window.  He thinks about Dick pulling away and Cass following.  About how Damian moves through the house like a skitterish cat, afraid of what he’ll do next.  He thinks of Jason and Alfred watching him so sharply like they can figure out why he’s doing what he’s doing.  He thinks of Tim blaming himself for Bruce screwing up.

(His smile turns bitter.)

“I guess it is.”

The dark seems to swirl in front of his eyes.  It’s almost peaceful - that is until Ra’s gets the last word.

“I do wonder which of your children will find your body.”

———

The Cave is quiet sans the steady beep of the main computer consol.  Tim wonders if he destroyed the Cave and every safe house Bruce know about: would the madness that’s taken Bruce go away?  The clearing of a throat behind Tim makes him jump.  He clears his own throat as he turns in his chair - technically Bruce’s.

“Master Bruce has shown me the results.  It was fear gas.”

Tim’s throat tightens.  “You’re sure Alfred?”

Alfred looks at him.  There are dark circles under his eyes.  He has not been sleeping either.  Fear for his son, fear for his grandchildren: it is keeping him up at night.  Alfred cannot fight this, not like Tim can.  The thing is, Tim doesn’t know how to fight this. 

He thinks back over what Alfred said, and it’s in what he’s not saying that has Tim worried.  Alfred didn’t do the test.  Bruce did - and blood test results can be faked.

“I am quite sure Master Timothy.”

A soft breath escapes Tim’s lungs.  He can believe in Alfred at least.

———

Jason doesn’t want to go through this shit.

Really.

He doesn’t.  There should be no reason why he’s staying in contact with Dickie, except to know where Bruce is when he’s on patrol.  Bruce is losing it and that spells danger for Red Hood and the gangs he’s protecting and taking out.  Jason can’t afford that.  So he keeps tabs on Bruce through Dick.  If he keeps tabs on babybird and the demon brat, well, it’s always good to know where the annoying sidekicks are.

(He’s lying.)

Anyways, he doesn’t want to go through this shit.  It’s the only reason he’s here right now.  Because he’s here to tell Dickie to fuck off.  He’s done.  Jason’s not going to watch it anymore.

Except that’s not how it works out.

Tim is pulling Damian out of the manor when he gets to the door.  The kid looks confused and hurt, like the damn mountain of a dog just died - a jolt of panic goes through Jason at that.  Bruce might have killed the dog if he was out of it enough.  Who knows what’s going on with him?  But then Damian sees him and scowls like normal and all is well.  Tim rolls his eyes and smiles though.

"We’re heading to the Tower for the weekend.  Bat approved.  Dick’s inside with.  Well, Dick’s inside."

That’s definitely a nervous eye flicker.  Jason also can’t ignore the way babybird’s shoulders tense as he looks back at the manor door.  Almost like he doesn’t want to leave Dick alone.  But Dickie’ll be fine.

Bruce loves him best.  He’s the first son after all.

(At least that’s what Jason keeps tell himself.)

"Trip to the Tower huh?  Well, seeing as you losers are out.  I’m gonna crash here and eat all of Alfie’s food in your place.  Can’t let it go to waste."

Jason definitely doesn’t imagine the look of relief Tim sends him then.  He ends up punching Tim in the back of the head - extra light because knowing his luck Alfred’s lurking around somewhere to scold him.  Jason wants those stupid blue eyes to stop looking so conflicted damn it.  Tim’s the fucking fantastic one.

"We’re fucking good here."

(Looks like he’s seeing this through.)

———

Tim scratches at Ra’s shoulder, twisting his leg enough to push out of the hold.  “You did this.”

“Timothy, how _could_ I have?”  Ra’s’ eyes glitter in the candlelight.  His voice is smooth, like he’s trying to calm a small animal.

It makes Tim want to laugh.

Because Ra’s is a deadly grace, boxing Tim in from all sides.  If any of Tim’s siblings were here Tim is sure Ra’s would say that Tim was _hysterical_ over the loss of Bruce.  Look at what happened when Bruce was lost in time.  This was for his own good.  But Tim knows what’s happening.  Tim knows Bruce didn’t commit suicide.  He couldn’t have.  It didn’t make _sense_.

There is nothing left behind by Bruce to explain why the man did what he did.  Why he harmed his children, why he did so much damage to a cause he believed in.  If he really was so far gone he would never have been so meticulous.

(Bruce was protecting them.)

Ra’s started coming around shortly after Bruce’s descent into madness.  It had to be connected.  Tim knows the others think Ra’s kept his distance until the end.  But Tim knows he moved most of his operations into the United States.  He’d been keeping a half-eye on him - just in case he decided Tim’s near death wasn’t enough punishment for the whole destroying-of-Ra’s-plans during Tim’s quest to get Bruce back.

“Timothy.”

A gentle hand caressing his cheek is all the warning Tim gets before Ra’s is stealing his breath away.  The kiss drives him against the wall with the force behind it.  He’s drowning in questions.  Ra’s doesn’t help in the way he’s destroying him with the pressure and - Tim doesn’t think he can breathe.

When Ra’s finally pulls away, Tim lets his head fall back with a thump.  He has to blink away tears - Ra’s somehow gained control of his arms during the exchange - before he tries to regulate his breathing.  He’s trembling, something which only gets worse as Ra’s inserts a thigh between his legs, leans in dangerously and - Tim stops breathing as he becomes air born. 

He lands on the mattress.  Ra’s hasn’t followed him yet.  Probably content to believe Tim’s at his mercy.  But he’s not.  Tim, he knows what to do at this point.  He’s trained himself ever since Ra’s’ sister.  He waits, muscles tense, until Ra’s’ shirt is fluttering to the floor to move.

Tim doesn’t make it though.

Perhaps Ra’s is quicker.  Perhaps Tim is just out of sorts.  Either way, he ends up with his back pressed flush with Ra’s chest.  One of Ra’s hands traces his throat.  It squeezes slighting, causing Tim’s breath to catch, before it releases.  Some part of him wonders if this is the end.  If all he is now is a toy for Ra’s to play with.  A low, simmering rage burns in the pit of his stomach at that.  He hasn’t come this far to be _this_.

"I am-"

"No," the word is breathed against his skin.  It curls in lazy patterns up his spine, raising goose bumps as it goes.  Tim tries to struggle but Ra’s has him pinned against the mattress.  "You are mine, mine Beloved, to do with as I please.  That is the truth Timothy - accept it."

But he won’t.

(Can’t.)

Tim goes limp then.  He can’t get out of Ra’s hold - he’s been trying since he was put in it - and he’s going to hyperventilate if he keeps this up.  He needs to calm down.  He’s angry - he’s terrified - and Ra’s can’t keep him here.  Not if he wants to stay on good terms with Damian and Dick.

They both know he’s here.  So do Jason and Alfred for that matter.

After Bru- after the last few months he knew better than to not tell someone where he was going.

Ra’s must be willing to let him leave.  He releases Tim’s wrists, gently running his hand over the places where they are sure to bruise, and retreats.  He doesn’t retreat far enough.  Tim kicks out on his way off the bed.  But Ra’s does nothing but smile.

"You were right Detective," Ra’s’ eyes trace his hurried movements to the door.  "Now just imagine how easy it would be for me to get to the others in your family."

———

Bruce’s arms wrap around Tim.  He’s solid, warm and most importantly _alive_.  Tim allows himself to relax into the hug, a smile blooming across his face unchecked.  Dick may have not believed him at first - but they saved Bruce.

He didn’t lose another parent.


End file.
